


The Midnight Man

by mister_otter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humor, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Partnership, Romance, Sexual Humor, Snark, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 09:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14912930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mister_otter/pseuds/mister_otter
Summary: Hermione strolls into the exclusively Pureblood Diamond Club. She has business with club member Draco Malfoy— interestingly secret business, of more than one sort.





	The Midnight Man

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the latest round of the Dramionelove Fest, word limit 2500-- so this is not a long story :) Many, many thanks to my wonderfully talented beta and much-loved friend, eilonwy!

**Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

 

The silence in the Diamond Club was almost eerie. No clink of cutlery on fine china, no well-modulated, aristocratic voices murmuring, no sound of champagne splashing into crystal stemware.

Hermione Granger had just strolled in, sucking the air out of the entire establishment as she passed each table of the dining room. She wore a form-fitting black cocktail dress with sheer, cobalt blue sleeves and sky-high heels, her elegant upsweep showing off dangling, sapphire earrings. 

Every woman in the room was ogling the earrings, ranking them a definite ten on a scale from zero to _jackpot!_

Above Hermione’s head a pisky zoomed angrily, wrapped in a ball of violet light— the magical alert that a non-Pureblood intruder had entered the old club. Hermione ignored it and the protesting maître d’ as well.

“Madam… er, Miss… did you not notice the pisky? I am sorry, but this establishment is exclusively Pureblood!”

“I’m with Draco Malfoy. He’s Pureblood and we’re exclusive. But if that’s not enough…” She gave the man a pitying look and raised her wand. The tip lit with a bold, blue glow, the unmistakable mark of Magical Law Enforcement.

The maître d’ huffed. M.L.E. of all blood types had free access to the Diamond Club, even if they were only meeting their current lovers. Stepping aside, he indicated a table in the far corner of the room.

Hermione strolled in that direction, aware that the open mouths of the diners had begun to move again, filling the silence with agitated whispering. 

Draco, lounging in a leather chair the color of aged cognac, watched her with a small smile.

“This is a private club,” he told her as she slid into the seat opposite him.

“Exactly. We need privacy, so what could be better? Now, will you please order your girlfriend a drink?”

“You aren’t my girlfriend.”

“No one here knows that except you and me. Don’t be unchivalrous, Malfoy. If you want your grandmother’s earrings back, then play nice.”

Draco sighed. He was five years into a secret, ten-year deal with the Ministry. In exchange for avoiding post-war reparations, he’d agreed to help M.L.E. on cases requiring certain types of expertise. 

At first, he had assisted Aurors Potter and Weasley, the three of them developing a surprising rapport. But late last year, he’d gotten partnered with Hermione Granger instead. His grandmother’s sapphires in Hermione’s ears made their relationship look authentic to the rest of the Pureblood world.

“You do know it’s hurt my reputation to have people think I’m dating you?” he asked, glancing around the club.

“No, it hasn’t. We both know your reputation has benefited amazingly from being paired with a war heroine.”

Draco scowled. She was right, of course. The Malfoy stock had risen in the months they’d been pretending to be a couple. But there were other things that he hadn’t expected.

Like the night he’d just spent in a cold, Parisian jail cell. And the feelings he’d developed for Granger. Feelings of intrigue. Curiosity. Liking. And… Draco shifted in his seat. Hullo, lust. Couldn’t forget about _you._ Always present whenever Granger comes around.

Hermione’s drink had arrived, a White Russian that she swirled with her little finger, eyes on Draco. “How was Paris?” she asked, with what he could swear was a mischievous smirk. 

“You do know there would have been no ‘Paris’ if I were still working with Potter and Weasley?”

“Likely not,” she shrugged. “I suspect I am a tiny bit more demanding of you.”

“Understatement of the bloody year,” he muttered. Harry and Ron were dedicated to their jobs, but Hermione Granger of M.L.E. Special Branch played in a league all her own. She wanted every case solved _yesterday._ If not that, then _right this minute_ would do nicely.

“Talk to me about Paris.”

“It’s an amazing city.” Draco couldn’t help giving her a wicked grin. “The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the chocolate croissants…” 

“That isn’t what I meant and you know it.” It was Hermione’s turn to scowl. “Did you get the information that I need to solve this latest?”

“Oh. You mean Granger’s Mystery Theater presents: ‘The Damned Case of the Cursed Diamonds, A Play of Excruciatingly Slow Acts?’”

“It isn’t funny, Malfoy. Three people have died from coming into contact with those diamonds. One in London, two on the continent. We know it’s a wizarding world operation, using Muggle henchmen for the dirty work. I need you to be serious.”

The smirk disappeared from Draco’s face. “If I didn’t take it seriously, Granger, I wouldn’t have just spent an entire night in a Muggle jail cell spying on the two diamond smugglers, as you sent me to do.”

Their eyes met. A truce had been declared. They were suddenly partners again. Partners who found they shared an interest in things best described as “dangerous.”

Draco leaned toward her across the table, his voice low. “I didn’t come back from Paris alone. I stole a corpse.”

“A corpse?”

“Yes, Granger. When a person dies, a corpse is what’s left behind.”

“Don’t be facetious,” she hissed. “Why the bloody hell did you steal one?”

“Because the dead man had a map tattooed on his buttocks.”

“Should I ask how you know this?”

“I saw it in a midnight vision. How do you think I know it? The two men you sent me to spy on were apparently old… friends. I pretended to be drunk and passed out in the corner of the cell. Eventually their trousers came down and I saw the Buttock Cartography.” Draco shuddered. 

“Why would anyone put a map _there_?” Hermione mused, her shudder echoing his.

“It’s actually a good plan. If I were searching for a hidden map, I wouldn’t think to look on someone’s arse. Would you?”

She shook her head violently.

“Once the men’s…er…reunion came to an end, I was hoping they’d talk. And they did. Just before they died.”

“Malfoy, please tell me you didn’t kill…”

His eyes glittered dangerously. “No. Someone posted their bond, and then murdered them in the alley behind the jail.”

“Bloody hell,” she swore again. “The body count for this one keeps rising. But why leave the body with the map?” Hermione the Curious warmed to the mystery.

“Because I magicked myself into that alley just seconds after they died. The murderer fled, leaving the tattooed corpse behind. There was no help for the poor buggers, so I stole Mister Map Cheeks myself.” Draco quirked one eyebrow at his partner. “He’s in the cellar, waiting to meet you.” 

“What?” Hermione hissed. “This is a top secret operation! Why did you bring him _here_?”

“Seemed like a good option. He’s in the area charmed for cold storage, well wrapped and tucked up in a dark corner. A bit nasty to put him down there with the food. But we both know this is a nasty business.” 

Hermione nodded, glad to be a Muggle-born who would not actually dine at the Diamond Club that night. 

“I need to see the map, then get the corpse to M.L.E. for examination. We’ll liaise with the usual Muggle agencies, on the off chance someone might recognize him as a known criminal.”

“I’ll take you to him.” Draco rose from the table. “But be warned— by the time I got him here the map had vanished. It must have been Spelled to disappear if its owner ever met with foul play.”

Hermione swore a third time, and Draco couldn’t help grinning. Granger, when actively involved in a case, did not take well to any type of thwarting.

Grabbing her evening bag, she followed him through labyrinthine corridors and finally to a stone staircase, the air growing colder as they descended into the depths of the Diamond Club. Hermione had to wonder what other shadowy things the cellar might contain, and why Draco so easily recognized it as a good place to hide a corpse. 

Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want to know. Except, of course, that she really did.

In a dark and chilly corner, they halted beside a large package labeled “Side of veal for week of 24 April,” a date still five days out.

“Looks like you thought of everything,” Hermione murmured, impressed. 

“I always do.” Draco grinned. 

Yes, he always did. And some of it, Hermione was learning, he kept to himself. Right now, there was a large gap between what he’d told her and what he wasn’t saying.

“Talk to me, Malfoy. You saw the map. You heard the smugglers’ conversation in the jail cell. What aren’t you telling me?”

Ever observant, she saw the corner of his lips tighten the tiniest fraction. It had to be something big, because Malfoy the Perfect Partner usually controlled his every reaction to give nothing away.

Draco sighed. “I recognized the drop-off location on the map. And I know where the diamonds are now.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “They’re in a goblin-held bank vault in Genoa. The vault belongs to Arturo Zabini. Blaise’s grandfather.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly. Big, flaming pile of it.” Draco’s eyes, clear, cool and grey, met hers. “Nasty business for sure, when it involves a friend.”

Hermione touched his arm in sympathy. “How much do you know?”

“Everything. I know all of it, Hermione.” Draco’s hands made fists inside his pockets. “After what I overheard, I did some investigating on my own. Not hard to put together the pieces when the names and locations are fucking _known_ to you.”

She nodded for him to continue.

“The smugglers carried the diamonds from Djibouti to Genoa, then to points beyond as assigned. They were carousing in Montmartre when they got arrested for public intoxication. Which you know, since you were having them followed.”

“And Arturo Zabini?”

“Has been using the cursed diamonds to do away with a few… inconvenient enemies.”

“How?”

“The three deaths happened at exclusive, Pureblood clubs, didn’t they? Glass of champagne over diamonds, compliments of an admiring ‘friend?’ Two days later, each recipient was dead.”

Hermione frowned. “Is Blaise involved?”

Draco pulled his hands from his pockets, palms spread wide in a noncommittal gesture.

“Thank you, Malfoy. You’ve done brilliantly. M.L.E. will take it from here.” She touched his arm again. Then a thought occurred. “Draco. Did you… did you warn Blaise about this?”

Draco faced her, eyes still clear and cool, face perfectly schooled to stillness. “If you alert Italian wizarding authorities to raid the Genoa vault, they’ll find the diamonds. Just like I told you.”

It was the best answer she could expect, as someone in a profession filled with shadows, dirt, and deals done at midnight. Blaise, the heir apparent to his grandfather’s empire, stood to benefit enormously if the viciously corrupt head of the Zabini family were toppled. And might prove a useful friend to M.L.E. in the future.

Sighing, Hermione stretched her wand toward the corpse, speaking several quick incantations. She opened her evening bag, and the body, now miniaturized to the size of a Galleon, floated into it. 

Snapping the clasp, she turned to Draco. “This has been a fun evening, Malfoy. But I really must get the corpse to headquarters.” Then, “I’ve been tasked with setting up an extra-special branch of Special Branch. Secret to the point of absurdity and international in scope. Would you care to join me, in a permanent way?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He moved closer, eyes gleaming in the low light. “I think you know why not. Because I’d rather join you in a way that has nothing to do with work.”

“The two wouldn’t have to be mutually exclusive.” She trailed one finger along the stone wall, eyes on the invisible track she was making. “The new branch will be so covert that one hand will hardly know what the other is doing.”

“I like it when both my hands know what they are doing.” 

Hermione’s breath caught. She looked up, and their eyes locked.

“Join me, Malfoy. The work suits you. We make a good team. There can even be a pact— ‘what happens at midnight, stays at midnight.’” A tiny smile. “At least, for now.”

“In that case, yes.” 

Draco extended his hand as if to shake on the agreement. Hermione took it and he spun her into his arms.

“Really? In front of the corpse?”

“He doesn’t mind.” Guiding her toward the stairs, Draco snagged a bottle from a rack near the doorway. “If anyone asks, I’m just in the cellar for some wine to take home. Special celebration with my girlfriend.”

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

“You will be. No one else could look that good in Grandmother’s earrings.”

“Hmm. If the disguise fits …?”

“… then maybe you really are that person.” He grinned down at her. “We’ve been lying about it for months. Time to take a stab at making it official, I think.”

“Fine. But I am never having dinner with you in this club. Not after you used the cold storage to house a corpse.”

“Said the woman with that same corpse stuffed in her handbag.”

“Rather carry it in your trouser pocket, would you?”

“Maybe next time. Meet me at my flat?”

“Let me drop by headquarters first. I’ll see you at midnight.”

“When all the best, most clandestine fun things take place.”

They grinned at each other and then Apparated away, a blue spark from the sapphire earrings lingering for just a moment in the air of the Diamond Club.  



End file.
